


THERE IS NO SHAME IN VICTORY, SAYS POPE IOANNES

by esteefee



Series: Pope John [9]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Blasphemy, Crack, M/M, SGA Saturday Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pope John and crew are recalled to Earth for Team Building exercises. Ack!</p>
            </blockquote>





	THERE IS NO SHAME IN VICTORY, SAYS POPE IOANNES

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jantique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jantique/gifts).



> ...because the new pope is ass.

John was bored.

Being back on Earth was a little like being sent to the principal's office—only minus the fun spitballs. 

He hated Earth. It was stinky, busy, and crowded with people who weren't his people.

But John got it, he really did. It was bad to be out of touch with the Home Office for too long. But dig this top level SGC memo, for example: Occasional review of personnel... _blah blah_...morale-building... _flubba flubba_...getting in-line with SGC policy...certain higher standard of moral code and conduct— _dear sweet Christ_ what a bunch of blow-hards. But here was something interesting—a plan to do on-base exercises for team building.

Now that was definitely something John could get behind. Because if there was anything he and his rag-tag team of marine misfits, airhead airmen and women, and mad scientists could do, it was get into people's shit and blow them out of the water.

Sometimes literally.

And as Pope and Military Commander, it was John's responsibility to show these people just who could zoom who.

:::

"Just keep 'em coming," John said, reaching back for another crate of hot chili pepper-infused oil-and-water balloons.

"They're crying like little babies," Lorne said, chuckling with glee.

"Little babies with wet diapers," Zelenka agreed. "Very humbling."

"This is _awesome_." John cranked back the trebuchet and let her rip.

:::

"Damn it! Archbishop Ronon's got Teal'c on his tail."

"You know what to do, Rodney," John said firmly.

"But—" Rodney gave him a pleading look.

"Now."

"But...they're...do you know how long it's been...?"

"We'll order more afterward. I promise."

Rodney sighed. "Deploying diversionary pizzas in three...two...one...engaged!"

:::

"It's Jackson, that fink! He's coded the latest clues in hieroglyphs." Watanabe looked completely incensed. "And he used the cursive form, the bastard."

"So?" John arched an eyebrow. "You saying Team Atlantis ain't up to it?"

"Of course not. I'm saying he's got terrible handwriting."

:::

"I think Novak thinks she can—"

"Just watch and learn, Chuck. Watch and learn."

They both watched the monitor as Teyla dive bombed Novak and Hermiod from above, dumping her two gallon payload of pink "target acquired" slime before flying back up through the Mountain's access tunnel.

"Oh my God," Chuck said, awestruck. "Is that color permanent?"

:::

"Shit that was close. Look at my hair." John stared at his reflection in the napkin dispenser and then looked at Rodney, who was biting his lip. "You'd better not be—"

Rodney started chuckling.

"Bastard." John patted the top of his head, which was shorn completely flat. "Any closer a shave and I'd be singing with the angels."

"At least you know you're going to heaven."

"Not likely." He grabbed Rodney and reeled him in, both hands on his ass. "Although I suppose I could grant myself dispensation for all my carnal sins."

"Better get to it. It's a long list."

:::

"I say we send in Cadman."

"Really? Oh, I don't think so." John looked over the schematics, then the small duct that ran along above the ceiling to where the ultimate prize lay: the generator room. "I say we strip down Zelenka, lube him up all over with molybdenum trisulfide, and send him through this cooling duct here."

"Oh." Rodney's eyes went wide. "Oh, that's brilliant."

"And kinda hot."

Rodney blinked and looked over at him.

John licked his lower lip.

"Hey. Not _now_. After we win."

"We are so gonna win."

:::

They so won.

:::

General Landry handed over the plaque looking like someone had stuffed an acorn squash up his ass. Of course, it might've been the crazy glue still stuck to his eyebrows that was giving him that expression.

General O'Neill just bounced on his toes with a smug smile on his face. He hadn't participated in the games—had some sort of special dispensation because of his knee that John thought was a crock of shit. 

Team Atlantis was grinning ear to ear, never mind that they all looked like someone had pulled them backward through a harvesting machine. 

As soon as the awards were passed out and everyone had drunk the ceremonial punch, John grabbed Rodney and they high-tailed it back to John's temporary quarters.

Zelenka had bitched about the skin-peeling quality of molybdenum trisulfide, so they had to make do with plain old K-Y and a mutual ass-fucking.

Victory was just plain fucking sweet.

 

_End._

**Author's Note:**

> [Pope John Masterlist](http://esteefee.livejournal.com/69844.html).


End file.
